


As the World Recreates Itself in Her Image

by sunnysaccharine



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, first work and its just a self indulgent drabble lmao, hows THAT for a tag, local sub butch subconsciously crushes on dom femme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:47:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnysaccharine/pseuds/sunnysaccharine
Summary: Fleshing out what Cassandra thinks regarding Trevelyan. Set fairly soon after arriving at Skyhold.





	As the World Recreates Itself in Her Image

In some ways, Cassandra envies Theodora Judex-Chrysanthemum Trevelyan. She’s the very picture of what every person in power should be: educated, level-headed, charming, a servant of the people--

Cassandra slams the brakes on that train of thought. What had began as healthy respect was turning into borderline hero worship, and Maker forbid she gives that damned dwarf more ammunition against her after the whole Champion of Kirkwall incident. But, truly, it was hard to simply stop. How could she not aspire to be like such a woman, to follow in her footsteps as the world recreates itself in her image?

And yet, guilt gnaws at her conscience when she admires the Inquisitor. _The-o-do-ra,_ Cassandra imagines her bemusedly repeating for the thousandth time, her patience rivaled only by Josephine’s, because _titles only tell people **what** I am, Cass, not **who** I am._

The Seeker frowns into her cup. The younger woman was careful, calculating, all decisions considered from all angles for the best outcome. Not just for her, or for the Inquisition, but for everyone. Perhaps that’s why she always looks so radiant; Anthony had always assured her that inner beauty always finds its way to the surface, and Theodora was living proof.

Cassandra can’t help but raise her eyes to inspect Theodora’s gleeful smile, as she warbles through a heartfelt rendition of “Andraste’s Mabari” for the growing crowd of Fereldan soldiers, most of whom were already brought to tears before the end of the third verse. Maryden seems just as elated to entertain the masses alongside the Herald--though the attention and coin she was bringing in probably helped smooth out the initial awkwardness.

“Perhaps it’s time for you to get some rest,” Cassandra pointedly suggests, as Theodora drapes herself over the delighted bard to beg another tune.

“Oh, you’re right, of course.” The younger woman smiles, and makes her way towards the door. Maker, that smile of hers could make anyone feel as if they made the sun rise. As she heads towards the door, Cassandra nods at the Inquisitor’s jacket, still lying where she’d thrown it in a fit of raw, bubbly laughter.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” At her advisor’s call, Theodora pauses, an unidentifiable look crossing her face. Then, before Cassandra can do much of anything about it, she turns and plants a wet, smacking kiss on her cheek.

“Good night!”

“Your **coat** ,” the older woman enunciates, the tips of her ears already burning. She doesn’t even dare to look at the tittering group behind her as she shoves the offending article into the Inquisitor’s arms and steers her back out the door. “I should escort you, given your current state. The others will have my head if I allow you to injure yourself prancing around like this.”

“Thank you!” Theodora continues, without even bothering to acknowledge her mistake. “Oh, Cass, I feel more and more like a princess every day. Isn’t it wonderful, to love and be loved?”

“I’m not sure I can relate.” As the two cross the courtyard, Theodora seems to calm down, settling for a leisurely pace. The Seeker's chest tightens; had anyone else dared to give her such a frivolous nickname, she'd certainly give them a whole host of reasons to regret opening their mouth, but there's something about the way the younger woman says it that makes it seem lovely, unique. How can she make a word that sounds like nothing feel like everything? 

Perhaps it's because Theodora only uses it when they're alone, a secret affection only the two of them share.

A seed of thought plants itself in the back of Cassandra's mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgence at it's finest. Open to criticisms, but if they're mean I'll cry about it.


End file.
